


Catch Me If You Can

by whiteicelily



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, and just the teeniest bit of angst, donghyuck is a merman, i would like to personally apologize to lee jeno for calling him moon-eyes the entire fic, jaemin is the best worst friend, mark is a fisherman, mentions of sexytime, mermaid au, mild spiciness, or should it be merman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteicelily/pseuds/whiteicelily
Summary: Mark forgets his usual bait and has to get creative. He ends up catching a bit more than he’d bargained for.(Or: Mark is a fisherman, and one day he makes the catch of his life)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 24
Kudos: 253





	Catch Me If You Can

**Author's Note:**

> \- So! There are some lovely, amazing, beautifully written mermaid AUs that I love like [this one by mindheist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424638) (Taekook) and [this one by jenuyu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942173) (Nomin), but I have yet to personally come across one for MH so I thought I’d just give them one instead!
> 
> \- Also inspired by the fact that I actually took up fishing as a hobby in the last month due to not being able to do much else in these current times, so at least I didn’t have to pull fishing knowledge out of my ass (even if the rest of it is all made up lmao)
> 
> \- As always, don’t take it too seriously and enjoyyy~

Mark realizes that his hobby is a bit unusual for someone his age.

It’s not often that you see a 20-something year old, basically an overgrown teenager, enjoy fishing. Usually if a young person is fishing it’s because they’re young enough to still find it fun or old enough to be forced to do it by their family.

Mark is in his early 20s, old enough to drink and definitely alone right now (his family is presumably doing their own thing in their family home) and so, yeah - he’s an anomaly.

He shoulders his fishing rod higher up on his shoulder and adjusts his grip on the bucket he has in his hands, crammed full of supplies, and makes his way down the shoreline past the hordes of families with kids and other fishermen who are usually composed of dads and old men dressed in camo.

He sees his favorite secluded pier come into view, jutting out into the water at the end of the shore near a patch of dense trees. He had stumbled upon this spot by accident one day, one holiday weekend when the beach was insanely crowded and he’d had to make his way up and down the shore looking for a relatively open spot to drop his line without impaling a mini-human. It’s an old, rickety-looking wooden pier, and unlike the rest of the beach - it was deserted. The reason became clear when he’d tentatively stepped one foot onto a wooden slab and the whole thing had creaked horribly like dilapidated floorboards in a haunted manor. Definitely not family-friendly, or possibly even legal.

The water underneath the pier is dark and thus presumably deep but riddled with moss and weeds, making it extremely murky and impossible to see through. Many fishermen have lost their fair share of hooks to the dense vegetation underneath, and even Mark is down at least a dozen hooks since he’d started coming here a few weeks ago - one in three always getting stuck on some unknown plant or root that he can’t see.

He still comes back though, because despite the frustration and the fact that the wood could crumble underneath his feet at any moment spelling certain doom, every two out of three times when his hook doesn’t get entangled and he has the patience and endurance to sit for at least five hours straight he stands a very good chance at catching one of the monster fish hiding in the thick weeds below. Just last week he’d caught a 30-pound bass, nearly booking a trip to the emergency room when Jaemin promptly passed out when Mark hauled his prize through the door of their small apartment.

Today, he is prepared for another big win. He brought a much bigger bucket this time, extra line, and a thick cushion for his foldable lawn chair which he promptly shakes out and sets up. His schedule is clear, Jaemin having gone out on a day trip with a guy whose eyes scrunch into moons when he smiles and is as nice as he looks. Mark even brought sunscreen and a bucket hat, the very picture of a retired old timer to anyone who is too far away to see his face.

Unfortunately, his memory seems to be matching his looks, clearly failing him as he begins to set up the reel on his rod before realizing that he forgot the live bait.

Well, shit. It’s too much effort to make his way down the shore and drive all the way back home to get it, but maybe he can dig up some worms like traditional fishermen from the good ol’ days.

This proves to be much easier said than done, however, when ten minutes later his fingers ache from the rough dirt and the sting of failure after plowing the lifeless ground around him, with not a hint of creepy crawlies anywhere. He trods back to plop down in his chair, defeated, and rummages through his bag.

He catches sight of a distinctive yellow arch stuffed into the depths within, and gets an idea. It’s probably not a good idea, but it’s the best he’s got.

He sinks his hand through the bag and pulls out his lunch, rifling through it and unearthing a single chicken nugget, unnaturally golden and very greasy but tastes like heaven.

He pinches the nugget between his fingers, staring contemplatively. If it’s edible to him, it should be edible to most other things - it’s worth a shot, at least.

Yolo, he thinks, stabbing the entire nugget onto the end of his hook before reeling it up the line and whipping it out into the water, the nugget soaring majestically overhead like a tiny gold bird to land with a wet plop! in the water a few feet in front of the pier.

Mark watches the nugget bob on the surface of the water for a few seconds before it gets eaten up by a wave and sinks down into the murkiness below. He drops down into his chair at the same time, prepared to idle away for the better part of the morning and afternoon.

The line stays loose and pliant, bobbing in the water where he can see it, and he monitors it lazily for a few more minutes before closing his eyes, grip loose on the rod in his hand. He starts to drift off debating whether he should thank his past self for having the foresight to bring a cushion or kick his own ass for forgetting the actual bait when the line suddenly jerks.

Eyes flying open and hand tightening into a death grip, he springs up to see that the line is taut, reel straining to spin from where he’s locked it. The tension is insane, and whatever fish has just caught onto it is clearly a big one, causing the rod to bow at a sharp angle under its weight.

Mark doesn’t do fifty reps of bicep curls twice a week for nothing, however, and so he gives himself a pep talk and lifts the rod up higher to pull with all of his might, fist clenched tight around the handle. The line is under so much pressure that it nearly sings, and he twists his body to the side to get some leverage as he takes a step back.

The rod only bows more, however, the line not rising at all from the water. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest when he realizes that it may not even be a fish at all that got caught onto the hook - it may just be weeds, which would really suck because he liked this hook and got a good deal for it online and now he’s going to have to cut it-

“Hey.”

Mark’s heart stops, and he jolts so badly in surprise that the rod slips out of his fingers and clatters onto the ground, line going slack. He freezes in shock.

There’s a head bobbing above the water, right where his line disappears enters it. Mark’s first thought is that he’s somehow fished up a dead body, and a flash of panic starts to creep up his spine before the head in the water suddenly jerks upward, yelling out “hey!”

Mark twitches at the sound, mouth gaping and eyes blinking rapidly before he gets a hold of himself. Oh, it’s just a swimmer, he thinks, placing a hand on his heart to try to calm it down from where it feels like it’s about to take flight. A few seconds pass in heavy silence and Mark realizes that the other person seems to be waiting for a response, and so he lifts a hand awkwardly.

“Uh, hey?” he says, waving tentatively.

At his words, the head suddenly disappears under the water and he startles to see it pop up right below him a moment later.

It’s a boy, who looks to be no older than Mark himself. His hair is plastered to his head, wet locks of copper that glow in the sun accentuating his tan skin that shines like it’s embedded with gold. He looks like something right out of a fairytale - breathtaking to look at with large, liquid eyes, rosy heart-shaped lips, and a lithe but defined body that is clearly stronger than it looks, the boy treading water with ease.

Mark can’t see below the boy’s upper chest where rivulets of water are streaming down, pooling in his collarbones.

He realizes that he’s staring, and quickly clears his throat. “Uh, do you need help?” he asks, flushing in embarrassment when it comes out high and squeaky.

The boy regards him curiously, titling his head. “Do I look like I need help?” he questions back, a hint of mirth in his eyes.

Mark pauses, contemplating. The answer is clearly no. The boy doesn’t look to be in any trouble, expression calm as he bobs up and down with the waves. He isn’t even breathing hard, talking in a normal tone and cadence as if he was standing on flat land.

Mark frowns, thinking that the boy must have great stamina to be treading water for this long. Maybe the water underneath the pier is shallower than he’d thought, or maybe there’s an overgrown tree root rising up out of the seabed. “Hey - are you standing on something?”

The boy raises an eyebrow. “Am I standing on something?”

“Yeah, isn’t the water here super deep? Is there something below you’re standing on?”

“Yeah, the water here is pretty deep. And no, I’m not standing on anything.”

“Then how are you staying afloat?”

“I’m swimming, dumbass” the boy responds, deadpan as he shoots Mark a deeply unimpressed look.

Mark squawks, offended. “Hey! I was just trying to look out for you. You shouldn’t be swimming in this area, it’s dangerous.”

“And you shouldn’t be throwing bits of processed food into the ocean, it’s dangerous,” the boy parrots back, mockingly.

Mark’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, properly chastised. The boy smirks at his lack of response, smug, and raises his right hand out of the water to lift it high into the air. Mark squints to see that he’s holding the chicken nugget Mark had used as makeshift bait, now soggy and falling apart in the water. “Anyways, if you’re going to be throwing in food - at least throw in the entire meal.”

Mark blinks at him, not understanding. “But you just told me that I shouldn’t be throwing in processed food.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “I said don’t throw in bits of it. And here I thought you humans would at least have some humanity. A merman’s gotta eat, you know.”

“A what?”

But the boy is already turning around, stuffing the soggy chicken nugget into his mouth. Mark grimaces in disgust, before seeing that the boy is making to leave. “Wait!”

The boy looks back, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Home, dumbass” and before Mark can squawk in offense again, the boy raises his arms and gracefully dives forward into the water, upper body disappearing into the waves as his lower body contorts up to propel him forward.

His lower body, which is composed of a shimmering, scaly, honest-to-god tail the color of iridescence and the size of Mark’s entire body.

Then it disappears under the water as well and Mark stares into the waves, stupefied. He doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the end of the pier, stare gone glassy.

“What the fuck,” he breathes, head spinning, before his legs give out and the world goes black.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Mark comes back the next week, partly because he’s convinced he’s hallucinated the events from last week and partly because Jaemin sexiled him to do the horizontal hula with moon-eyes.

He’s prepared this time as well, but slightly differently. Instead of his trusty rod and live bait, he’s armed with a bag of McDonald’s stuffed to the brim with every item off the dollar menu.

The smell of cheap and grease and cheap grease wafts into his nose temptingly as he stands at the end of the pier, lifting the bag up. It feels weird to just lob it into the ocean, packaging and all, so maybe it would be better to unwrap everything before tossing it in? But it’s kind of rude to pick apart someone’s food before giving it to them, right?

Having a mental image of Jaemin sticking his fingers into his daily bowl of milk and cereal spurs him to stop overthinking and to just get it over with, reeling his arm back to pitch the bag with all of his might. It hits the top of the waves with a splash before sinking rapidly, disappearing into the murky depths.

He leans over the end of the pier, holding his breath, peering intently for any sign of movement in the water, but doesn’t see anything aside from the usual lapping of waves. A few minutes go by with still nothing out of the ordinary and he deflates, leaning back. He spares the water one last glance before turning around to get the stuff he’d dropped on the pier, half-expecting the coast guard to show up at any minute to arrest him for littering when-

“Human.”

Mark shrieks, falling heavily onto his ass and causing the brittle wood beneath him to groan something horrible. He whips his head around to see the boy (the merman) from last week gripping the wooden slabs of the pier, heart-shaped lips curled into a devious smirk as he peers at Mark in amusement. His cheeks are bulging, looking like an overfed (but an incredibly adorable) fluffy squirrel.

Mark picks himself up, rubbing his sore ass petulantly. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m a merman,” the boy corrects, chewing vigorously.

“You shouldn’t talk with food in your mouth.”

“You shouldn’t talk with your hand on your ass.”

“Hey!” Mark pouts. “I just brought you the entire dollar menu, be nice to me.”

There’s a loud swallow, and then the boy dives back with a splash, floating belly-up on the water. He rubs his stomach happily, a content expression on his face, and burps loudly. “Okay, human. You’re not so bad, I guess.”

Mark doesn’t respond to the jibe, too distracted by the massive shimmering entity that he didn’t get to see up close last time, now bright and luminescent in the sun as it floats at the top.

The boy catches him staring and curls his tail up, flexing it proudly. “What? Never seen one before?”

“No,” Mark breaths, tone reverent and disbelieving. He swallows. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Never seen a fish like me?”

“Never seen...anything...quite like you.”

The boy moves his hands behind his head, lounging back. “I am pretty special,” he purrs, lips curling.

Mark barks out a laugh. “Are all of your kind like you, completely full of themselves?”

The boy’s smirk grows wider. “Not everyone is blessed to be like me. But I do have more than a dozen brothers, and they’re all pretty special in their own right.”

Mark whistles, impressed. “More than twelve brothers? Must be a lively house.”

“Yeah.” The boy shrugs, still lying in the water. “It can be a lot, which is why I journey out on my own sometimes, like right now.”

“Why are you here though, in these murky, dirty waters full of weeds?”

The boy laughs, high and melodic, and Mark wonders if all those fairy tales about mermaids and sirens are true after all. “These ‘murky, dirty waters full of weeds’ is precisely why I like coming here. It’s a great place to chill out and take a nap away from prying eyes.”

“Oh,” Mark blinks, confused. “Why are you letting me see you then?”

“Because a certain dumbass threw a chicken nugget at me and I wanted to put a face to the stupidity.”

“Oh,” Mark says again, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up - or, I mean, I didn’t know you were there.”

The boy waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay, I can digest that stuff, unlike some of the other species. I was getting tired of having fresh fish 24/7 anyways.”

“Ah - sorry for that filet-o-fish I got for you today then.”

“I said fresh fish, what you threw at me today has been dead for a decade.”

Mark scoffs. “Please don’t, I can’t afford to question what’s in my food.”

The boy laughs, the sound like music to Mark’s ears. “Alright, human. As your kind say - ignorance is bliss.”

“I have a name,” Mark grumbles petulantly. “Not ‘human.’”

The boy stares at him, expectant, and Mark crosses his arms. “It’s Mark,” he says, voice firm.

The boy smiles. “Alright,” he concedes, humoring him, unfolding his arms to hover (stand? swim?) upright in the water again. “Human Mark.”

Then he turns, and Mark is left yelling after him again. “Wait!”

The boy turns back, eyebrows raised, a mirror image of last week. “What? Going to ask where I’m going again?”

“No, um” Mark looks down, staring at the ground for a few seconds before lifting his eyes back up, gaze determined. “Tell me your name, too.”

The boy raises a hand to sweep his wet bangs off his face, eyes dancing with amusement like he’s watching an entertaining little pet.

“Donghyuck,” he says, words carrying like a song in the breeze, before he lifts his hand from his hair to give a little wave and dives back into the water.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jaemin is peering at him with suspicion. “There’s something going on” he accuses, brandishing his spoon at Mark menacingly.

Mark doesn’t acknowledge him, too focused on drowning in his bowl of Frosted Flakes. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, slurping at the milk.

“I mean, you’ve been like Cinderella these past few weekends, sneaking off to god-knows-where!”

Mark flinches back from the little droplets of chocolate milk that fly everywhere from Jaemin’s emphatic spoon-waving, dabbing at the front of his shirt daintily. “Did you forget that you literally sexiled me one weekend?” he huffs. “I had no choice!”

“Yes but usually when I sexile you, you text every hour practically begging to come home. And this time I didn’t hear a peep from you until you rolled in at the crack of dawn!”

“I did not ‘roll in at the crack of dawn,’ Nana. It was one AM. You just went to bed hella early because you were too...energetic...during the day.”

Jaemin smirks, completely shameless. “Hell yeah, I’m like the energizer bunny.”

“Sure, and just like the battery, you last a few hours and then become completely useless when spent.”

Jaemin pouts, but his eyes quickly light up again. “You’re trying to distract me with sex, which, usually works, but not this time! I’m sober and sated and I want to know what has you acting so sketch recently.”

Mark sighs and drains the rest of his milk, setting his bowl down with a soft clank and wiping at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not acting sketch, and I’m not doing anything different.”

Jaemin’s eyes narrow. “You’re out gettin’ some.”

Mark sputters, eyes going wide. “No, I’m not! I’m just out fishing like usual, sheesh.”

“Then why haven’t I seen you lugging back a monster once these past few weeks?”

“Uh, maybe because I’m trying to save you a trip to the hospital?”

Jaemin pouts. “Boo, me having a totally-normal reaction aside, you used to bring back a mini loch ness monster every other week, forcing the monstrosity into our kitchen and calling Taeyong-hyung over to cook it.”

“I just...haven’t caught anything these past few weeks.”

“Then why do you keep disappearing like clockwork every weekend?”

“Because success is a journey, not a destination” Mark says sagely, ignoring the pinched expression on Jaemin’s face as he gets up and starts clearing away his bowl. “I fish because I like it, not because I’m looking for the greatest catch of my life.”

Jaemin huffs, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “Then why do you always come back with the cheesiest grin on your face, looking like you’ve just won the Powerball?”

Mark quickly forces his expression to be neutral, trying his best to sound nonchalant as he shrugs.

“I guess I just can’t get enough of the fish,” he says, voice steady despite Jaemin’s shrewd expression, realizing that he means it.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Donghyuck is lounging on the pier when Mark sees him, looking like an everyday sunbather if not for the massive tail curling up the side of the narrow deck.

Mark panics, and his first instinct is to cover up Donghyuck from prying eyes. He looks around the surrounding area wildly, spotting nothing but sand and the rough dirt that makes his fingers ache just thinking about it.

He can use his chair cushion, he thinks, as he races towards Donghyuck. It can cover up a small portion of the tail fin, at least. “Dude!”

Donghyuck cracks an eye open lazily, drawing a hand up to shield his eyes as he peers at Mark sprinting towards him. “Whoa, slow down, human. Stomp any harder and the wood is gonna give out, and of the two of us only I can swim.”

Mark frowns. “I can swim,” he refutes, slowing down nonetheless.

Donghyuck drops his head back onto the ground. “Please. The best you can do is stay afloat. You humans don’t know real swimming.”

“Mark,” Mark mutters, drawing up against Donghyuck, casting a shadow over him as the former continues lying motionless on the floor. “My name is Mark.”

Donghyuck grunts, the only indication that he’s heard him.

Mark sighs, setting up his chair, but hesitates before sitting down. It feels weird to sit in a chair when Donghyuck is sprawled on the floor, below him. It doesn’t feel right to be a whole level above Donghyuck, aside from when he’s on the pier and Donghyuck is in the water. But now that they’re both on land (or at least, not in the water), it makes the most sense for them to be on the same level.

So Mark drops unceremoniously onto the floor as well, in front of his chair. Donghyuck lifts his head at the noise and lifts an eyebrow at Mark sitting cross-legged next to him, but doesn’t comment.

Mark turns around to rifle through his bag, and the rustling of paper and smell of grease gets Donghyuck’s attention.

He raises onto his elbows before sitting up and staring at Mark, eyes sharp and hungry, as Mark unearths a massive bag of takeout. “Here, he says, tentatively passing it over to Donghyuck’s grabby hands.

Donghyuck peers at the bag with adoration as he holds it, before he raises it and promptly stuffs the whole thing into his mouth.

“Dude!” Mark shouts, horrified, as he watches Donghyuck chew voraciously, paper and all. “You’re not supposed to eat the packaging!”

Donghyuck’s cheeks bulge comically as he chews, munching loudly for several seconds before he tilts his head back and swallows it all down with a loud gulp that has Mark grimacing.

Donghyuck picks at his teeth, smirking at the look on Mark’s face. “Relax, human. Different biology. My digestive system is not nearly as sensitive, look, see?” He removes his hand and flashes his teeth, leaning closer to Mark.

Mark frowns before peering into Donghyuck’s mouth curiously. It’s true that Donghyuck seems to have sharper teeth than the average human, incisors pointy like a baby vampire. He can see rows of pearly white stretching far back into Donghyuck’s mouth, the kind of cosmetic perfection that dentists dream off. He wonders what kind of hygiene routine they adhere to under the sea for Donghyuck to have teeth so neat and blinding.

“Do you have dentists under the sea?” he asks.

Donghyuck laughs but doesn’t answer, merely sprawling back onto the ground like a lazy cat unfurling in the sun.

Which suddenly reminds Mark of how above-ground they are. “Wait - actually, why are you up here?” he wonders. “What if someone sees you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bother opening his eyes. “No one ever comes over here. There’s only a dumbass throwing chicken nuggets into the ocean.”

Mark scowls. “I already apologized for that. Besides - you still ate it.”

Donghyuck hums. “Hmm, yeah. It’d been a while since I had processed food, maybe 80 years or so.”

Mark jerks back, stunned, causing the wood to creak loudly and Donghyuck cracks an eye open to glare at him. “Sorry...but uh, what?”

“Different biology,” Donghyuck says, closing his eyes again. “Get used to it, human.”

Mark exhales. “So you’re at least 80...” he trails off in shock.

“I’m 200, in human years.”

“Okay,” Mark breathes, gripping his knees. “Okay, okay - so you’re one of the oldest in your family, I’m guessing?”

“Nope” Donghyuck says. “Actually, I’m one of the youngest. There’s only a few brothers younger than me.”

“Do you have any sisters?”

“Nope,” Donghyuck says again, popping the p. “Our family has had no daughters for generations. Rumor has it that an aging ancestor made a deal with the sea devil for a son, and the wish was twisted to mean having only sons from then on.”

“Twisted?” Mark frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Donghyuck begins, waving a hand in the air. “Have you heard of The Little Mermaid?”

“Of course, Disney was a rite of passage for most kids.”

“Right, well,” Donghyuck says, amused, “that story was based on more fact than you know.”

Mark’s eyebrows rise. “Oh?”

“Yeah. There really is a sea devil, but instead of a sassy, saucy, sea witch, it’s a sassy, saucy sea wizard named Ten.”

“Ten? That name sounds so...basic.”

“It is, and it’s because he’s such a basic guy too. He’s just a bit mischievous, but that’s what happens when you have overwhelming power at your disposal for centuries.”

“So, your family is not mad that he twisted their words?”

“Nah. Everyone knows that if you make a deal with the devil, he’ll find some way to twist it. He’s older than everyone in my family combined, so he does whatever he can to amuse himself ‘till the end of time, probably.” Donghyuck smiles, looking strangely fond. “And you especially do not make any deals with him when drunk.”

Mark perks up. “You get drunk?”

Donghyuck laughs. “You humans get drunk off ethanol, we get drunk off fish toxins. You get high from land plants, we get high from sea plants. Either way, the result is the same.”

Mark whistles, trying to digest all the information. He never would’ve thought that humans and mermen would have so much in common, major biology differences aside (granted, he knows practically nothing about mermen and didn’t even know they existed until a few weeks ago). “So have you ever made a deal with the devil, then?” he asks curiously.

“No,” Donghyuck says, exhaling as he flexes his tail again. The wooden slabs on the other side of the deck creak ominously. “Not yet. I haven’t found anything I wanted enough.”

At Mark’s hum, Donghyuck turns, rolling onto his elbow. He cracks his eyes open slowly, looking right at Mark, who’s staring back at him with his arms around his knees, rapt. There’s a strangely contemplative expression on the merman’s face.

Donghyuck regards him for a moment longer, before rolling back onto his backside. He raises his hands behind his head and closes his eyes once more, the picture of peace.

Mark watches as Donghyuck sighs again, full lips parting slightly, the words said so soft that they’re nearly lost over the gentle crash of the waves.

“But maybe someday.”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

True to Jaemin’s words, Mark disappears like clockwork every weekend. He hits up the local McDonald’s on the way, visiting so often that the cute girl working the drive-through greets him cheerfully (“hey, it’s the dollar menu dude!”) and rings up his order as soon as she hears his voice come through the tinny intercom. He doesn’t know if he should be proud to have made a namesake for himself or not.

Sometimes Donghyuck is waiting for him, sunbathing on the pier far too small for his majestic (his words) and hulking (Mark’s words, to Donghyuck’s great offense) tail. Sometimes he’s floating on top of the water, lazily drifting from side to side and likely to scare the shit out of any poor soul who’s not Mark. Sometimes he’s nowhere to be seen, and Mark has to pitch the takeout bag straight into the sea and wait a few seconds before he sees a flash of familiar copper locks surface from the dark depths of the water.

Whether it be on sight or within minutes, Donghyuck is always there.

Mark asks him about this one day, wondering why Donghyuck always seems to be in the area when he comes to visit. The merman only shrugs, saying that he likes the noise from the beach on the weekends, which seems odd because he’d said before that he came to this spot to escape the rowdiness from his band of brothers. But then Donghyuck had turned around and asked Mark why he keeps coming every weekend if he no longer comes to fish, rod and reel consistently forgotten, and Mark shrugs and says that he’s recently gotten into environmentalism.

Neither are satisfied with the other’s answer, but they let it be.

Donghyuck tells Mark about his (usually hilarious) hijinks underwater, and Mark reciprocates with tales from above (mostly about Jaemin, who’s an experience in and of itself). Donghyuck continues wolfing down the entire takeout bag in one go, packaging and all, despite Mark’s valiant attempts to stop him. He also doesn't stop calling Mark ‘human,’ despite Mark’s efforts to get Donghyuck to call him by almost anything else.

He fails on both counts.

Jaemin tries to tag along one weekend, aggressively clinging on to Mark’s backside like a stubborn piece of lint, using his trademark high-pitched whine which is proven to break through most people’s defenses either through annoyance or pity.

But Mark is not most people; he is both lucky and unfortunate enough to be Jaemin’s best friend since childhood and so has built up some semblance of immunity over the years.

He marches towards the bathroom, roughly detaching himself from Jaemin’s grabby hands and slams the door shut, ignoring the cat-like pawing outside as he dials the emergency contact. The call is picked up within seconds, and ten minutes later there’s the chime of their doorbell. Jaemin is effectively distracted for the rest of the day, Mark slinking out quickly and doing his best to block out the heated tongue-wrestling in the living room.

Donghyuck is waiting for him on the pier again, hair dry for once, ruffling softly in the breeze. He must’ve been here a while, sound asleep and not moving when Mark approaches.

Mark sits down gently next to him, crossing his legs, taking in the merman’s skin glowing golden under the blazing sun and his defined chest as it rises and falls rhythmically in a steady cadence. He sets his bag down beside him, the telltale crinkle of paper wrinkling and the scent of grease wafting up from within, but he doesn’t move to unpack it.

Instead, his hand reaches forward automatically as though pulled by an invisible force to Donghyuck’s face and it hovers there in front of it, hesitant, so close that he can feel soft exhales against the back of his palm as the other sleeps peacefully.

Donghyuck’s nose wrinkles slightly as an errant bang blows across his face, tickling his nostril, which only makes Mark’s already-flimsy resolve crumble. He moves his hand forward the last few centimeters to gently sweep the luminous copper strands off of the other’s face, movements slow and soft. Donghyuck’s face smooths out, lips parting slightly.

Then Donghyuck moves to nestle his face into Mark’s hand, and Mark is mesmerized, powerless to do anything but watch in wonder as Donghyuck slowly opens his eyes, long eyelashes tickling Mark’s palm as they fan out.

Mark looks at Donghyuck as though he’s holding the world in his hands, and with the warmth radiating from the other’s tan skin that sparkles in the sun like molten honey and the way his large, liquid brown eyes dance with vibrant life like stars twinkling in the sky - he might as well be.

They don’t talk much that day, using the time for tentative touches and soft caresses instead. Mark has been drunk many times in his life, too many to count really (although definitely not as many as Jaemin), but this is the first time he’s felt drunk without having had a sip to drink. He’s drunk off a person.

Well, if the body he’s holding in his hands counts as a person, technically. He thinks the word ‘treasure’ might be better.

He goes home that day, drunk off the sun and something much sweeter, feeling as high as Jaemin looks, sprawled in the middle of the living room with a blissful grin on his face when Mark gets back.

Next weekend can’t come fast enough, his entire body humming with anticipation and barely-repressed excitement. The week passes by in a blur, each day melding into the next as Mark can’t spare any concentration on anything besides copper hair and a soft waist.

Finally, it’s the weekend and he springs out of bed to hit up the McDonald’s drive through (“good to see ya, dollar menu dude!”) before peeling off towards the beach, nearly sprinting down the shoreline when he arrives. The pier, their pier, comes into view, and he can feel his heart kick up in double time in tandem with his quickening footsteps.

He finally reaches the pier, and he slows for the first time since leaving the house. The dilapidated structure is empty, devoid of life, no sign of any living fantasy in sight. It looks old, unsturdy, and alone - just like it did when Mark first found the place, back when he came for the fish and not a fish.

He has a bad feeling for some unforeseen reason, but he quickly quells this thought as ridiculous. He’s being dramatic; Donghyuck is probably just sleeping in the weeds.

Heart rising with hope, he rifles through his bag for the takeout, extracting it. It’s fit to bursting, as always, and he grips it firmly in his hand before reeling it back and pitching it out into the sea with a practiced ease, watching it bob along the water for a second before it sinks soundlessly.

He waits, pulse hammering in his ears. He waits for a head of copper, a flash of tan skin, the sparkle of scales in the sunlight. He waits for his world to come back to him, always armed with a witty barb or that nickname he hates or a convoluted-but-always-comical story.

He waits for a few seconds, then a few minutes, then a few many minutes. An hour goes by, and the murky waters remain unchanged, lapping languidly against the creaking wood, the noises around him all sounding too natural. Too normal.

Whether it be on sight or within minutes, Donghyuck is always there - except when he’s not.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Mark comes back the next week, McDonald’s takeout in his hand and heart in his throat, eyes peeled for a flash of copper and finding only murky green.

He comes back the next week and sits at the pier for hours, waiting for something that never comes.

He tries again the following week, wishing for the best but expecting the worst.

The fourth week he comes sans takeout and leaves after only an hour, a pit where his heart should be.

He wakes up to the sound of his alarm in the fifth week, sighs, and pulls the covers tighter around himself. He doesn’t get up.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Mark is rudely jolted awake when Jaemin slams his door open without so much as a knock, eyes wild and a manic expression on his face. “You need to leave.”

Mark squints at the blurry form at his door, hands blindly fumbling for the glasses he knows are somewhere on his bedside table. “Huh?”

“I said, you need to get yo’ ass out of this house in the next...thirty minutes” Jaemin declares, striding into the room and pretending to be checking a watch on his bare wrist.

“What the hell are you talking about” Mark bites out, hands finally closing on the thin frames of his glasses, which he quickly shoves onto his face to glare at his best friend. “Why are you in my room and why are you kicking me out, Nana?”

Jaemin huffs. “First - I’m doing it because I can’t take you skulking and sulking around the place anymore, and I’m long over the pity party you’ve been throwing yourself for the past two months!” he exclaims, ignoring Mark’s protests. “I can’t keep cuddling you 24/7 and our measly budget cannot afford another 20 gallon-tubs of fancy French ice cream!”

Mark pouts, bottom lip jutting out. “Real nice to be kicking me out in my time of need, man” he sighs dramatically. “What a bro you are.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Excuse you, I’ve been coddling you for the past two months, and you won’t even tell me what happened. What about my needs, huh? I am also facing a time of need, and I’m very needy!”

“Ohhh I get it. This is all just a convoluted way to distract from the fact that you’re sexiling me again.”

Jaemin doesn’t even deny it, crossing his arms with a grim expression. “Yes, I’m sexiling you,” he agrees. “But more importantly, I’m forcing you to go out into the world and start living again.”

He stalks over to sit on the edge of Mark’s bed, hand reaching forward to stroke through Mark’s hair with a gentleness that belies his firm tone. “It’s not good for you to be holing yourself up when you’re perfectly healthy and hot, go out and have fun like every other irresponsible 20-something year old. And no-” he says, seeing Mark open his mouth, “I don’t mean all the times you went out the first month and came back looking like someone shit on your favorite black Adidas snapback.”

Mark frowns. “That’s...oddly specific.” Then he sighs. “What am I even supposed to do when I go out” he whines, nevertheless leaning into Jaemin’s palm.

“Whatever young people usually do!” Jaemin retorts, waving his other hand around dramatically. “Get fast food, hit up a bar, go to a museum to see a banana taped to a wall, get laid.” Then he furrows his brows contemplatively. “Actually, just do whatever things you usually did before awkward Mark became mopey Mark.”

Mark sighs again, burying his head into his pillow. “You are the worst best friend I’ve ever had,” he says, words muffled. “But fine - I’ll get out for you to get off. You owe me for this.”

He can’t see Jaemin, but he can hear the smile in his voice, no doubt a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Aww Markie” he simpers, still stroking Mark’s hair softly. “I’m the best worst friend you’ve ever had, and me scarfing down that pile of burnt ash like a champ and missing my midterm exam to pop a squat for two hours when you decided to make ‘food’ is payment enough,” he says, making dramatic air quotes. Then he gives a gentle pat to Mark’s head, reaches down to not-so-gently pinch Mark’s ass under the covers, and scampers out.

Diabolic laughter fades out into the hallway and Mark falls back against his pillows from where he’d sprung up in an aborted attempt to give chase, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling in defeat and curse the horny (but well-meaning) force that is Na Jaemin.

Then with one last loud exhale, he forces his stiff muscles to move, ass still smarting, and stumbles out of bed.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

They don’t recognize him at the drive-through, which is strangely disappointing. There’s no chirpy, high-pitched voice greeting him as soon as he rolls up to the intercom, and he’s faced with a deep, disinterested baritone instead who doesn't believe him when he says again that yes, he really does want the entire dollar menu and no, it’s not a prank. He takes it as a bad sign.

Well, better to get his hopes for the day shot down early.

Nevertheless, he takes the takeout bag filled to bursting and drops it into his own bag, driving off in the familiar direction of the beach. It’s a beautiful day out, the sun nearly blinding as it sits high in the sky with a small breeze blowing through that contrasts the relatively high-temperature so that it doesn’t feel too stifling.

Today he is prepared as well, but not like the most recent dozens of times he’d come before. His trusty fishing rod sits in the backseat, reel and live bait stuffed into his dusty bucket of supplies next to it. He hasn’t fished in months, mostly due to being otherwise preoccupied the last few (many) times he was here, but he couldn’t really think of anything else he wanted to do that would guarantee him out of the house for a few hours.

The beach is crowded today, filled with families and tourists and tourist families alike. He spots a few fishermen along the edges of the shore, and as usual it’s a predictable mix of men giving off suburban dad vibes and old men in camo who look like they just retired from the Army.

Mark lugs his supplies down the shoreline, sweat beading at the bottom of his hairline under the blazing sun. He wipes his hand across his face, trying to clear the sunspots dancing across his eyes from the bright light reflecting off the undulating waves.

As expected, the noise dies down the further he gets from the central part of the beach, the water growing increasingly dark as it deepens. He can see the secluded pier coming into view, waves crashing against it as the wood sparkles.

Except - wait. ‘Sparkling’ should not be the word used to describe old, dilapidated planks of wet, dark wood that look like they’ll disintegrate into the ocean any minute. The water sparkles, but wood doesn’t.

The pier, however, is definitely sparkling.

Mark rubs at his eyes again, convinced that he’s seeing things, but no - there’s definitely a flash of burnished copper peeking through the wooden bars at the side, sparkling in the sun.

There’s a loud clatter as his rod and bucket of supplies tumble to the floor, and he stands frozen for a second before his feet kick up of their own accord, sending him sprinting forward so fast he feels like he’s flying.

Despite the adrenaline thrumming through his veins and the plumes of sand he kicks up as he barrels down the shore, it seems to take him ages to reach the pier. The flash of copper grows in size as he nears, blowing softly in the breeze.

Mark finally reaches the pier, pulse thundering in his ears and blood singing in his veins, taking in the sight before him.

There’s a man on the pier. He’s sprawled on the ground, looking like he’s passed out, laying on his back with his limbs spread loose and facing away from Mark. He doesn’t move as Mark approaches, lying frozen and lifeless on the ground.

He’s also very, very naked.

Mark approaches the body, steps slow and gentle, face probably turning purple from holding his breath so long. His mind is both a cacophony of noise and as silent as a tomb as it desperately tries to make sense of the vision his eyes are sending it.

He’d recognize those shining copper strands, glowing tan skin, and rosy heart-shaped lips anywhere. Has run his hands through them, over them, against them. Has tasted them, salty with seawater but still so sweet like honey, across his tongue.

Donghyuck. It’s Donghyuck. He is here, on the ground, before him. He is here, nearly glowing in the sun. And he has legs, long and lithe legs no less dazzling than the opalescent tail that formerly took up that spot. He is here, and he is alive.

Mark frowns, the breath coming back to him in a choked inhale when he realizes something. Donghyuck still hasn’t moved from where he’s sprawled on the ground, and the sudden overwhelming and confusing mix of joy, relief, and disbelief racing through his veins is immediately doused with a cold shot of dread.

It’s terrifying enough to stumble upon a dead body, but he really wouldn’t be able to take a dead Donghyuck. He’d rather live the rest of his life alone and miserable, wishing and wondering what happened, than to see the boy he likes(?) dead at his feet.

He drops to his knees, feeling himself shiver in the hot sun, and reaches a trembling hand forward to tentatively caress the other boy’s cheek.

It’s warm, and he promptly falls onto his ass when Donghyuck snaps his eyes open and whips his head to stare at Mark, mouth parting open in surprise.

Mark mirrors the shock, hand outstretched and ass stinging for the second time today. He retracts his hand slowly, and for a few seconds they merely stare at each other.

Then Donghyuck’s lips curl into a grin, so familiar. “Hey,” he breathes out, eyes scrunching in amusement.

Mark jerks out of his stupor, and he eyes the other boy with wonder. “Uh, hey. You’re very naked” he remarks, before mentally berating himself. He hasn’t seen Donghyuck in months and the merman is suddenly back, except he’s not a merman anymore and that is the first thing he says?

Donghyuck laughs, melodic voice ringing out against the gentle lapping of the waves beneath them. “I’ve always been naked, you didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.”

Mark swallows, feeling the back of his neck growing warm. “Uh, I mean, I guess I never really noticed before?” he stutters, blushing furiously. “Or I mean, I never thought of it that way since you had - different biology. But now you have legs and…more...and it’s kind of hard to miss.”

Donghyuck laughs again, tilting his head up towards the sun. “Yeah, I have legs now, and more” he trails off suggestively, looking down as he wiggles his toes experimentally, as if to prove his point. “Now I’m just a human, like you.”

“But, but how?” Mark asks. He gestures at Donghyuck vaguely, face scrunched in confusion. “I haven’t seen you for months, and then you come back looking the same but with...a whole different set of limbs.”

Donghyuck smiles, dropping his head back onto the ground and curling his hands behind his head. He looks the same as he always did when he napped on the pier, but the change in his bottom half is much too distracting. “Remember when I told you about the sea devil?” he prompts suddenly.

Mark pauses, thinking back to their previous conversations. “The sea wizard? Ten, right?”

“Yep,” Donghyuck affirms, beaming with pride. “Smart boy. Remember what I told you about making deals with the devil?”

“...you told me that he’s mischievous because he’s practically immortal and to never make deals with him when drunk.”

“Exactly. And I was completely sober, not a drop of fish toxin in me, and I made a deal.”

Mark gasps, eyes going wide with realization. “Wait, but you said that he always twists the wishes for his own amusement, and that’s why your family can only give birth to sons.” He eyes Donghyuck with horror. “What was the twist?”

Donghyuck looks unfazed, calm-and-collected expression a complete contrast to Mark who is barely breathing as he waits, riddled with anxiety and clearly dreading the answer. When Donghyuck speaks, his tone is as nonchalant as if he was discussing the weather. “Nothing.”

Mark’s eyebrows scrunch in even greater confusion. “Nothing?” he parrots back, words heavy with disbelief.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck breaths, smile taking on a bit of mirth. “He said that being human was bad enough, and that there was no way he could’ve possibly twisted it to make it worse.”

A laugh escapes Mark, despite himself. “So, you really just got legs, just like that?”

“Don’t forget the ‘and more.’”

“Right, right,” Mark blurts, and wills his blush down. “I just thought maybe you’d have to give up your voice or something, like in the fairy tale.”

“Nah,” Donghyuck says, waving his hand dismissively. “I do have the voice of an angel but Ten’s certainly not lacking in the vocal department.”

“Looks like legs didn’t make you any more humble.”

“Well, I wanted you to still be able to recognize me after all this time.”

Mark frowns, suddenly remembering all the time that had passed since he’d last seen Donghyuck. “It took two months for the transformation?”

“What, no,” Donghyuck shakes his head. “It took like, 20 minutes. He hit me with some magic voodoo after which I swam up here and crawled onto this pier as the change took effect.”

“Wait - so you only just got your legs today?”

“Yep.”

Mark frowns harder, suddenly indignant. “Then where have you been these last two months?” he accuses, coming out like a whine. “You didn’t even give me any warning before you disappeared.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck sighs. “That’s because it took a while to convince my brothers to let me go, and then eventually to fight them off when they tried to stop me.”

“Oh” Mark parrots, deflating. “Must’ve been rough having to fight off so many people.”

“Actually, the fighting wasn’t the hard part. Sure, brothers like Johnny-hyung are massive and intimidating and my little brothers clung to me like starfish on a tank but they just want me to be happy, even if it’s away from them. So all it took was a bit of begging and looking extra soft and baby and they let me go.”

“The problem,” he continues, voice growing exasperated. “Are brothers like Doyoung-hyung who tried to give me the shark-and-the-squid talk, complete with live demonstrations using puppets which I really did not want nor need to see.”

He huffs at the other’s confused expression. “The shark-and-the-squid,” Donghyuck repeats expectantly, raising an eyebrow, but still gets no reaction. Finally, he makes a crude hand gesture.

“Ahhh” Mark acknowledges, understanding. “The birds-and-the-bees!” he exclaims, face lighting up with recognition, before falling into a grimace. “Uh, yeah that definitely doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“You humans have the strangest expressions,” Donghyuck mutters, eyeing Mark like Mark is the fantasy species. “But yes, it was almost painful enough to make me give up on the whole thing.”

Mark’s heart picks up pace against his will, pulse thundering in his ears. His palms feel sweaty with what he thinks must be anticipation, and he can’t keep the hope out of his expression as he looks directly into Donghyuck’s eyes. “So, why didn’t you?” he asks, both excited and terrified to hear the answer.

Donghyuck merely stares back for a few seconds, before starting to sit up. It’s clear that he’s still getting used to his new body, movements clumsy and unsure as he pushes himself up and into a sitting position. He tries to move closer to Mark but gives up, reaching out his arms to pull Mark closer to him instead, who nearly sprawls into the other boy’s lap at the force he’s jerked forward with.

Mark’s face burns but Donghyuck doesn’t let him go, however, hands tight around Mark’s forearms as he hauls their bodies closer together, leaning in so that Mark feels Donghyuck’s every exhale blow softly against his lips.

Donghyuck parts his lips, pretty mouth an open invitation, and Mark surges forward to take it.

Their lips press against each other, softly at first, gentle, before growing more desperate like the turning of a tide. Mark bites at Donghyuck’s bottom lip and tilts his head, coaxing a high whine from the other boy as he tentatively licks into Donghyuck’s mouth.

The taste is just as he remembers: the bite of salty seawater with the molten sweetness of honey in summer. It’s intoxicating, and he feels dizzy as Donghyuck moves his hands up Mark’s chest to interlace behind his neck, pulling them even closer against each other as Mark sinks his tongue deeper into Donghyuck’s mouth, wet, warm, and willing.

He feels Donghyuck smiling against his lips as he suddenly pulls back, a string of saliva stretching between them. He smirks, seeing the dazed expression on Mark’s face as Mark unconsciously leans back in to try to follow after Donghyuck, his hands moving to grip the other boy’s bare waist.

Donghyuck is beaming, skin embedded with flecks of gold shining in the sun and soft copper locks rippling in the breeze. He smells of seawater and summer, and feels like the promise of forever.

Mark is drunk without ever having taken a sip. Drunk with heat, with happiness, with hope.

With love.

And Donghyuck looks back at him with just as much fondness in his eyes, just as much want, so sassy but sweet, so scaly (formerly) but soft and sensual. He leans back in, breathing directly against Mark’s lips.

“I said before that if I ever wanted anything enough, I’d make a deal someday.”

Mark’s breath hitches, and Donghyuck only smiles harder, looking every bit as unreal and straight from a fantasy as Mark once thought he was. Donghyuck exhales, flicking his tongue out to lick at Mark’s bottom lip. He tightens his grip on Mark’s neck, so tight that Mark burns, not able to tell if the overwhelming heat he’s feeling is from the sun, from their bodies pressed flush together, or from something much deeper within him.

“Today is that someday, Mark” Donghyuck concludes, eyes soft with adoration but voice firm with resolve. “And I want you.”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

  
“Uh, do you need help?”

“Do I look like I need help?” comes the biting remark, as cocky as it was all those months ago.

Mark bites his lip. Because unlike that fateful day in what feels like forever ago, the boy toddling up the stairs in front of him, steps hesitant and unstable like a newborn baby, definitely looks like he is in need of help this time.

And dire help at that, as he watches Donghyuck place a tentative foot on the next step, knuckles white in his death grip on the railing, as he tries to haul himself up on arm strength alone before promptly losing his balance and falling backwards.

Mark sighs, catching the other boy in his arms with a soft oof. He doesn’t let go. “Alright, let me ask it another way. Please let me help.”

Donghyuck huffs, bottom lip jutted out in a stubborn pout. “I can do it,” he says petulantly, but makes no move to leave Mark’s arms.

Mark reaches down, grabs Donghyuck behind the knees, and swings him into his arms. He easily carries the boy up the rest of the stairs, Donghyuck grumbling under his breath all the while, and makes sure to tuck the shirt Donghyuck has loosely wrapped around his waist tighter against his exposed bottom.

They’d been well and distracted for a solid few hours, but when the sun began to set and the waves picked up speed it quickly became clear that they couldn’t just park themselves on the rickety, increasingly unstable, shuddering pier all night. Donghyuck could no longer go back to his home in the sea, at least not like he used to, and Mark needed to head back as well before Jaemin came down from his post-coital high and worked himself right back up into a panic high at Mark’s sudden disappearance. And so the obvious move was for Mark to bring Donghyuck back home with him.

Except the fact that Donghyuck was and still is very, very naked, which Mark had absolutely no qualms with for the past few hours but suddenly finds very, very problematic now that they need to venture out into the public (or at least, more public than their public-but-not-really pier, that is).

Having come to the beach in the morning with no clue on what or who he would find and the fact that it’s also the dead middle of summer, he had not thought to pack a change of clothes.

The best he could do was give Donghyuck the shirt off his own back to tie haphazardly around his bare waist and make him shoulder his bag, which was miraculously still present and intact along with the rest of his fishing supplies from where he’d unceremoniously dropped them on the shore earlier.

Problem was that he usually likes to wear his shirts tight and his bag is really just a small knapsack and Donghyuck wearing Mark’s shirt as a makeshift skirt meant Mark being bare-chested for the entire journey back, and so it really is a miracle that they didn’t get stopped and arrested for indecent exposure.

Even now, as he carries Donghyuck bridal style up the stairs and into his apartment, he can feel the woefully-scant material of his own shirt sliding up Donghyuck’s bare waist.

Fearful that he will cause Donghyuck to inadvertently flash someone on the street and irrationally jealous at the thought of Donghyuck inadvertently flashing someone on the street, he fumbles for the keys in his back pocket, loudly jams them into the lock, and roughly barges his way in.

He slams the door shut behind him and turns to see a piece of toast fall from Jaemin’s mouth, crumbs spreading everywhere when it bounces on the floor.

Mark freezes in the doorway. He and Jaemin just stare at each for a few seconds, eyes wide and mouths gaping, before Donghyuck raises a hand in a casual wave. “Hey.”

This seems to snap Jaemin out of his stupor, and he launches forward, toast forgotten. He stops right in front of them and reaches straight into Donghyuck’s lap to grab at his hand, pulling it out to shake it somberly. “How do you do, I’m Jaemin.”

Mark snaps out of his stupor as well, rolling his eyes. “Stop acting so weird, Nana” he whines, adjusting his grip on Donghyuck and causing the shirt to ride up even more. “And don’t ask any stupid questions.”

If Jaemin is fazed by Donghyuck nearly mooning him in the face, he doesn’t show it. “You go out to catch fish and come back with a man, of course I’m going to ask questions” he retorts, waving his hands for emphasis.

Donghyuck laughs from where he’s still curled up in Mark’s arms, causing Mark’s entire body to shake. “Technically,” he says, eyes dancing with mirth, “you could say he came back with either.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows rise in confusion but before he can ask the no-doubt dumbass question he has ready on the tip of his tongue, several things happen in succession.

First, Donghyuck pats Mark’s arms to release him, which Mark obligingly does to relieve the soreness he can start to feel creeping up his overly-tense muscles.

Second, Donghyuck wobbles dangerously once placed on his feet, and both Mark and Jaemin reach forward reflexively to stabilize him, Jaemin’s hands on his shoulders while Mark grabs at his waist.

Third, just as they manage to stop Donghyuck from hitting the floor, Mark’s hand catches on the shirt wrapped around Donghyuck’s waist, already coming loose and unraveling it further just as the door to their bathroom swings open and moon-eyes walks out.

The shirt lands in a heap on the floor.

All four of them freeze, expressions ranging from horror, to amusement, to embarrassment, to shock. Mark throws himself down to grab at his shirt on the floor and tries to tie it back on Donghyuck with fumbling fingers, Donghyuck laughing uproariously as Jaemin is speechless for once and moon-eyes whips around to stare at the bare wall next to the bathroom like it’s a particularly riveting piece of abstract art. No one says anything as the sound of melodic laughter echoes loudly around them.

Donghyuck wipes at his eyes, cheeks rosy and voice hoarse as he turns back to brush his other hand gently down Mark’s face, expression fond. “You humans are so funny,” he coos, eyes brimming with warmth as he cups Mark’s jaw. “I think I will like it here.”

Mark swallows, feeling two sets of intense stares burning holes into the side of his head but unable to look away from the sight before him, Donghyuck’s tan skin glowing like burnished gold even in their crappy fluorescent lighting. “Yeah,” he breathes, equally hoarse with disbelief.

And then he smiles, and it’s mirrored right back at him, luminescent and blinding and unbelievable and the look of a fantasy straight out of a fairy tale, just like its owner. And Mark is lucky enough to be a part of this story.

He sighs, before continuing: “you are the greatest catch of my life.”

And then he leans forward to capture Donghyuck’s lips in his.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I’ve come to the realization that it is a common trope of mine to have characters start and end fics saying the same words or phrases but in an entirely different context...I should really stop being so predictable but I am weak for coming! full! circle! ugh!
> 
> \- Still trying to write shorter fics, which are my personal preference bc I love em’ short and sweet. If/when I come back, if it’s more than 5k I’m gonna kick my own ass
> 
> \- As always, thanks for reading!!


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